


home is wherever you are

by wilsonrogers (hanbrough)



Series: post-endgame samsteve fics [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Domestic Fluff, M/M, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:55:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25129648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanbrough/pseuds/wilsonrogers
Summary: Sam and Steve, after the snap.or, a year in the life post-Thanos. rly just an excuse to write married!samsteve and fluff :D
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson
Series: post-endgame samsteve fics [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1574593
Comments: 5
Kudos: 40





	home is wherever you are

**Author's Note:**

> it's been over a year since endgame and i still hate that movie with all my heart. i didn't think i'd write samsteve again tbh but i've been rly nostalgic about them and i wanted to try writing fluff that was more than 1k words so here is my attempt! i miss my boys so much and they deserved better forever <3

After Thanos's demise, there's only silence.

Things happen in a blur after that: Pepper organizes a funeral for Tony, and nearly everyone they know shows up. But T'Challa has a country to run; Carol and the Guardians are heading back to space, looking for other planets ravaged by Thanos' trail of destruction; and Wanda and Vision make plans to retire to a peaceful life in the countryside, so one by one, they leave. Bruce tells what's left of the group that the infinity stones need to be returned in order to re-balance the timeline, and nobody knows enough about the subject to argue against him. Steve insists on going alone to return them, and although Sam wants to open his mouth, to say that no, he should be the one to do it, one look at Steve's expression of finality proves it's a lost cause.

So instead Sam says, “See you in a minute,” and leans in for a chaste kiss. Then, Steve vanishes, and when he doesn’t immediately re-appear, Sam can’t help but worry that something has gone horribly wrong. Maybe Steve had gotten stuck in a time loop, or maybe he had seen Peggy and decided to stay back, spending the rest of his life with her—no, that’s ridiculous, he tells himself. He almost wants to laugh at the absurdity of that idea, and reminds himself to tell Steve about it when he comes back so they can make fun of it together. 

“Sam.” Bucky’s voice interrupts his train of thought, and something about the way Bucky says his name feels odd. There’s a mixture of uncertainty, disbelief and shock, and as he turns around, another voice—a voice he never thought he’d hear again—chimes in. “Hey, fellas.”

He can’t believe his eyes, but there she is—Natasha, her hair in a silvery-red braid, with Steve standing beside her, smiling silently. Sam lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding; she hesitantly steps towards him, and then they’re hugging. He’d been told bits and pieces of what had happened, but it’s irrelevant now—she’s back, and that’s all that matters. Steve is Steve, but Natasha means a lot to him, too; he’d never forget the years the three of them spent together on the run, finding family in each other. 

That night, after everyone has gone home to try to pick up the pieces of whatever their lives were before the snap, Steve comes up behind him in the kitchen, gently wrapping his arms around his waist and leaning his head against his shoulder.

“Hey,” Sam says. “Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

“You,” Steve replies, in that honest way of his. “Five years, Sam. For you, it was a blink of an eye, but for me, it….” he trails off. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You won’t,” Sam turns around so that he’s fully looking Steve in the eye. “I promise.”

“You can’t know that.” Steve’s voice cracks on the word “can’t,” and Sam’s heart aches.

“You’re right,” he admits. “But right now, I’m not going anywhere.”

Steve looks like he doesn’t quite fully believe him, but they’re together again, and that’s all that matters.

—

They get married less than a month later—having gone five long years without each other, there’s not a moment to waste. Bucky sends them pictures of wedding aesthetics he finds on Pinterest, and Natasha and Sharon insist on baking the cake, refusing to tell them what flavor it’ll be until the big day. Many happy afternoons pass with the five of them sprawled on the floor, looking through old photo albums. Steve tells them stories of his mother, Bucky interjecting with snide comments here and there.

The wedding is bright and early on a Saturday morning, in the garden behind Sam’s childhood home. Bucky is Steve’s best man and Nat is Sam’s, and they grin at the smatter of applause that arises when they step out in their matching suits. The crowd is small, featuring a handful of the people they trust; Sarah, Gideon, Darlene and Paul sit in the front row, with Rhodey, Sharon, Hope, Fury, Thor—who decided not to leave Earth after all—Valkyrie, Peter and his date, Michelle, and Bruce rounding out the back. Scott, who somehow found the time to become a certified pastor, officiates. 

“Do you, Sam Wilson, take Steve Rogers as your lawfully wedded husband, to love and cherish from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health?” Sam blinks the tears from his eyes, clearing his throat. “I do.” 

Scott asks the same to Steve, and then declares them to be officially married; the subsequent cheers and shouts of congratulations are just a distant buzzing in Sam’s ear as he leans in to kiss the love of his life.

Afterwards, Natasha and Sharon serve the cake, which turns out to be mango, Bucky’s least favorite flavor. Bellies full, Thor and Valkyrie pull them into an impromptu dance session, with Peter DJing and Michelle standing next to him, torn between smiling and rolling her eyes. Eventually, Peter puts on “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran, and Sam feels like he’s at his high school prom all over again.

He thinks he’ll remember it forever.

—

Their honeymoon is in Bali—it’s a place Steve had wanted to visit before everything had gone to hell. They spend the first day on the beach, tossing the shield—which Sam swears he brought for fun—back and forth like a frisbee. With the foamy waves lapping around their toes and the sun shining down on their backs, there's simply not a care in the world.

Later that week, they befriend the others in their tour group. The tour guide, Aditya, is a kind man with twinkling eyes of mischief, and with his expertise of the area, they spend their days scuba-diving, hiking up the nearby mountain, and visiting several sacred temples. Occasionally, a tourist approaches them for selfies or autographs; the locals, in contrast, don't seem particularly interested.

All in all, it’s a much-needed two weeks of rest, relaxation and paradise. But although Thanos may be gone, there’s still evil to defeat; as soon as they return back home, Fury pings them with a new mission. Within the hour, a quinjet lands in front of their house, Steve grimacing as its wheels promptly crush the daffodils growing out front. 

Initially, Sam’s worried that somehow their dynamic on the battlefield will have changed—not only because of the five years they've spent apart, but also because they’re fighting now as Captain America and Nomad. The shield feels heavy in his hand, not just from the weight of the vibranium, but with all the burdens and expectations that are now his to bear. 

“You ready?” Steve asks him softly as they arrive on the scene. Sam can see robots scattering in the street below, Peter and Scott already on the ground tearing some of the slower ones apart. 

“Yeah,” he quips, to cover his nerves, “it’s not like we’ve never been on a mission before. Or is dementia finally kicking in that old man brain of yours?” 

“You sure don’t seem to think I’m an old man when—” Steve begins, only to be interrupted.

“We need you down here at Fifth Avenue, Cap!” Natasha’s voice cuts through the comms. Sam starts in surprise, realizing that she’s talking to him and not Steve. Steve’s looking at him with a small, proud smile on his face, and he leans in for a quick kiss before jumping out of the plane. 

As he lands, Natasha’s in the middle of shooting a robot down, the bullet hitting it clean in the head. Without even glancing his way, she points to a man who looks so stereotypically evil it’s almost comical, directing a new set of robots out into the street. 

Sam rolls his eyes. “He had to go and be a fool bright and early, huh?” 

Natasha laughs in response, shaking her head. “Your call, Sam.”

He’s still a little hesitant about using the shield, but with a month’s worth of training sessions behind him, hours spent getting used to its weight and how it feels in his hands, he’s fairly confident in his newfound abilities. The throw is clean and quick, and a dull thump can be heard as the shield finds its target. With a practiced swoop of his shoulders, he unfurls his wings to deflect against the incoming robots, throwing in a mid-air backflip for good measure. The shield may be unfamiliar, but the rest of it isn’t; he easily blocks some half-hearted punches, and within seconds, has got the man running the bots tied to the ground. 

“Good work,” Fury says begrudgingly in his ear, and he chuckles. “Was that a compliment?”

“Don’t let it get to your head, Wilson,” Fury chides, and even though Sam can’t see him, he just knows that the director is rolling his eyes. “Still robots everywhere.” Fury’s right; the source may be gone, but his friends are still scattered around the city, taking down the robots one by one. 

“Sam,” Steve’s voice rings through the intercom. “I’m jumping off the Macy’s building now. Meet you there?” 

“Steve!” Sam’s torn between concern and amusement, but he can’t deny the thrill that rushes through his veins at the challenge. Steve’s a small speck on top of the building, running towards the edge, and as he free-falls in the air, Sam’s there to catch him, the wind cooling them off from the hot summer air. 

“What if I couldn’t get there in time?” Sam half-berates as they land. 

“I knew you would, though,” Steve replies, and it’s so simple, laced with his trademark sincerity and pride that Sam goes lightheaded for a second. He clears his throat. “Punk.”

“You love me, though,” Steve teases, and yeah, he thinks, he really, really does.

Bucky’s incredulous voice cuts in. “Do you guys _seriously_ not see the swarm of robots coming your way?”

—

Of course, not all missions go as well as others. Sam’s pretty sure the image of Peter falling helplessly in the air, saved by Rhodey in the nick of time, is burned into his mind, haunting his dreams at night. There’s also the occasional post-fight press conference, in which the world comes to terms with the fact that their beloved Captain America is no longer a blonde-haired, blue-eyed white man—some people faster than others. 

But there are also happier times; on their days off, they go to the park, running laps until one of them—usually Sam—concedes defeat. During one of those days, they’re sitting on a bench, licking their post-workout ice cream cones and letting the sticky residue run down their wrists. Vaguely, Sam wonders if this is what the best of summers feels like: the faint taste of mint chocolate in his mouth, a slight balmy breeze ruffling his shirt, and Steve’s laughter next to him. 

Steve’s in the middle of a ridiculous story featuring Natasha, the thirteenth floor of a building, and Peter’s now-girlfriend Michelle when a young boy runs over to them, eyes sparkling with excitement. He acknowledges Steve briefly, and then turns to Sam. “Can I have a picture?”

“Of course,” Sam answers, pleased. He knows that he has his fans, of course, but it’s always nice when they want to meet him first, rather than Steve. Steve takes the picture, pretending he doesn’t know how a phone works, while Sam rolls his eyes. 

“Ignore him,” he tells the boy, who’s laughing. “He’s just a big troll.”

“Thank you,” the boy says. He hesitates for a moment, but then reaches in for a hug, wrapping his skinny arms around Sam’s waist. Sam returns the hug, a warmth spreading through his chest.

“Thank you.” An older woman, who Sam assumes is the boy’s mother, comes up to them. “You have no idea how much you mean to Adrian.”

“You’re my favorite Avenger,” Adrian says, looking sheepish at his mother’s admission. “I wanted to be you for Halloween, but the store costume was too expensive, so Mama made me some wings out of old cardboard! Almost as good!”

Sam shakes his head, insists on giving his business card to Adrian and his mother so he can send them actual merch for next year, and then bids them a good day. He turns to Steve, who’s watching him with a small smile. “What?”

Steve shrugs. “I’ve always looked up to you, even before I handed you the shield. I’m just happy to see the rest of the world finally catching up.”

“You’re so cheesy,” Sam groans, but Adrian’s words aren’t lost on him.

—

Steve decides to enroll in art school, and the number of missions he goes on dwindles from one per week, to one per month, to barely any at all. For Steve, painting and sketching is almost therapeutic, and he’s good at it, too. He spends three months working on his portfolio, refusing to show it to anyone, not even Sam. “You’ll just have to see,” Steve tells him cryptically.

The day of Steve’s portfolio presentation, Sam and all of their friends dress up in their fanciest clothes and make their way to the gallery. Various works of art are displayed throughout the room; Sam recognizes the garden outside their house in one of the paintings. 

Steve is nowhere to be seen, but then a single spotlight illuminates the stage, and he steps out. Clearing his throat, he begins. “Thanks everyone, for coming. You may know me as a former Avenger and the old Captain America, but what you may not know is that I’ve always loved art. When I was young, sick in bed, drawing was pretty much the only thing I could do to pass the time. Bucky can attest to this—I drew on pretty much anything, and he was often the unwilling model.”

The room laughs at this, and Steve smiles, continuing. “The first year or so after I came out of the ice was one of the hardest times of my life. Everyone I loved was gone—everything I knew was gone, replaced with this entirely new world. So once again, I turned to art, and for a while, that was enough. But then I met Sam, and when I went to visit him at the VA, he asked me what made me happy. I told him I didn’t know, and I realized I needed to find out. Now, with both my art, and my family and friends, I can finally say that I’m happy.”

“So,” Steve gestures, “with that said, I’m pleased to present my portfolio.” He takes off the black cloth covering the first piece, and Sam gasps when it’s revealed. It’s a painting of him soaring majestically in the air, the glint of the shield on his left and Redwing on his right, circling him in perfect parallel. He’s poised for battle, a determined look on his face.

“I’ve always thought my husband was a hero. Now the rest of you can see him exactly as I do.” Steve locks eyes with Sam as he makes the statement, and Sam almost wants to cry.

There are other drawings and paintings in the portfolio, too—from the casual, lighthearted slices of life, to the more serious moments, Steve’s depicted it all. There’s Sam, Natasha, Sharon and Bucky fixated on an intense game of Jenga, limbs sprawled all over each other. There’s Sam in his glasses, squinting at a post-mission report in the dimming light. There’s Peter and Miles grinning widely, arms slung around each other’s shoulders while America and Kate make funny faces in the background. There’s Scott and Hope dancing around the kitchen, seemingly unaware of anyone but themselves.

“These are the miracles of my life. As a bisexual disabled immigrant growing up the 1920s, I never actually thought I’d make it this far. But after the past few years—after Thanos—it’s more important now to appreciate the blessings I have, and the people I love. Especially Sam—my rock, my best friend, and my husband. Thank you.”

The room explodes into applause, which Steve graciously accepts before exiting the stage. Sam goes to find him; when he sees him, Steve is breathless with excitement. “How was it?” he asks.

“You already know it was perfect,” Sam replies, fighting back tears. “I love you too, dumbass.”

“Wasn’t making you wait all these months worth it?” Steve asks smugly, and Sam rolls his eyes before shutting him up with a kiss.

—

With his portfolio behind him and plenty of free time to spare, Miles and Peter finally sit Steve down to watch all three seasons of _Avatar: The Last Airbender_. Sam laughs his ass off when Steve discovers the live action adaptation, staring at the whitewashed characters in horror. They then spend the afternoon debating the merits of element bending, and Sam feels a little silly that they both get so worked up over fictional characters.

Sam’s not immune to catching up with what he’s missed while he was gone, either; his niece and nephew force him into learning more than his fair share of Tik Tok dances, which all go viral online, with mixed reactions. But Sam sucks up his pride, and the elated expressions on Jody and Alina’s faces are worth it.

Soon, it’s been a whole year since the battle with Thanos, since Tony snapped his fingers and paid the price for it. Steve still gets the occasional nightmare about Thanos’ return, waking up in a panic that everyone he loves is gone, but Sam grounds him. They’re together, along with all their friends, and everything is okay. 

It’s a beautiful morning the day they renew their vows, a cool breeze disrupting the summer heat. Sam and Steve look at each other like the stars in the sky, and there’s not a dry eye in sight by the time they finish reciting their original vows.

“Will you guys love each other forever and ever?” Jody asks after the ceremony is over, looking up at his uncles with an innocent, yet curious gaze.

“Forever and ever,” Steve echoes, Sam nodding in agreement.

They've never felt more at peace.


End file.
